


we all need somebody to (artfully) lean on

by KayNight



Series: Your Compliments Look Good on Me [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Affection, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6646201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayNight/pseuds/KayNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray didn't realize that becoming a piece of living, breathing furniture was a part of the deal when he started this thing with Len (whatever this thing exactly is, he's still not quite sure). Ray soon realizes he doesn't mind at all - quite the opposite in fact.</p>
<p>tldr; in which Len is affectionate and has a unique way of showing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we all need somebody to (artfully) lean on

Of all the things that could possibly surprise Ray about his budding relationship with Len, the most unexpected had to be the casual affection – or rather, being used as a living, breathing piece of furniture. 

Anyone who’d ever met the guy even once could tell you that Leonard Snart was a master lounger, it doesn’t matter where, what, when, or the amount of objects even slightly resembling furniture in the room, Len could make himself appear to be perfectly content to laze about all day. 

Sure, it was all a part of that whole ‘cool-calm-and-collected’ thing that he had going on, but it was also something of an art form at this point. And this is where Ray comes in, and where Len’s relationship with Ray’s body comes in – aka that in addition to getting a loving, doting, and cute as fuck boyfriend, Len somehow also managed to drag someone else into this weird display of casual, artful disinterest.

Feet propped up on Ray’s lap in a bomb shelter during the Blitz, an arm wound around the taller man’s waist while they admired the glow of some dictator’s house burning to the ground, Len leaning his full body weight on Ray despite a chair being literally two feet away from him on any number of occasions, using Ray as a hat rack, and on one memorable occasion, just plopping right down on to Ray’s lap at a bar with the team in the West Village during some random year in the 80s. 

(The shocked expression on Rip’s face made Ray devolve into snickers as he had roped a thick arm around Len’s waist, tugging him into a more comfortable position. Ray had tried to hide his amusement by burying his face in Len’s neck, but that just resulted in eliciting an undignified squawk from Len and a slap upside the head for Ray – and Ray discovering that Len was ticklish of all things. Captain Cold – ticklish? Who would’ve thought.) 

Despite his initial surprise the first time Len used him in such a way, Ray had quickly adapted to his new role in Len’s life with a warm sort of satisfaction that his lover had defrosted enough around him to let him get close in such a casual way. Receiving affection from Len, even if it came in the form of Ray acting as a 6’2” wall to lean on, never ceased to bring one of Ray’s trademark bright, beaming smiles to his face. 

Sometimes Len would even relax enough to brush a hand through Ray’s thick hair, trace miscellaneous patterns on Ray’s skin with finger tips – all done with the same mixture of feigned disinterest and ‘fuck you’ to anyone who seemed surprised that Len was capable of affection. Sometimes, if Ray was being honest, he wondered if Len operated purely on spite alone. He wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. 

Len, for his part, was just happy that he had his own personal heater. The muscles, the good looks, and the stupid face with stupidly attractive lips and stupidly pretty eyes were all just a bonus to be honest. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself (and Sara – who just laughs in his fucking face. Thanks Sara.).

**Author's Note:**

> its finals. let me live guys. let me live. in other news, since it is finals, there'll probably be more trash like this because apparently I can't write about Offensive Neo-Realism without thinking of queer shit its great. feedback would be much appreciated, I aggressively treasure comments; they will hopefully help me survive this week.


End file.
